You Are Not the One
by Darkaiser
Summary: We all know the story of the Sole Survivor. What happened to the OTHER people trapped down in Vault 111? What might have happened if THEY had escaped?
1. Chapter 1

Fallout 4

You Are Not the One

The first thing I remember is the gunfire. No…that's not quite right. Before that I remember choking…smothering. I couldn't catch my breath and I was cold…so very cold. I woke up inside one of those damned tubes. Well, the tech had called them tubes. I thought of them as glass coffins. I remember the feeling of dread when the lid closed. 'Decontamination' they had said. Yeah, what a fucking joke.

So, I wake to the sound of gunfire coming from somewhere not too far away. I managed to get the tube open but my first step planted me square on my face. My muscles were so cold and weak that I could barely move. I was on the floor in the tube chamber, cold and weak and alone. What a way to start the day.

My name is…well, you can call me 'Smith.' It's been 200 years since anyone knew my name so why change now? I'm what the locals call a 'Vault-Dweller' but not in the usual sense. You see, I wasn't supposed to _be_ in the vault. I'm getting ahead of myself so let me start at the beginning.

I grew up in a little suburb of Boston, a little place called Sanctuary Hills. Mom was a school teacher and dad worked at the local Corvega plant. I was a typical snot-nosed kid, only child so Mom and Dad spoiled me rotten. Right up until I got into trouble… _real_ trouble I mean. I was in high school, hanging out with friends and trying to look cool when this girl from another school gives me the eye. One thing leads to another and a few months later she tells me we need to get married. Great…seventeen and I'm gonna be a daddy. I thought about it for all of half a minute and then made the fateful decision to run away and join the Army. Recruiting was legal at 17 back then, what with the war and everything, so off I went to avoid things at home. Never even saw my kid, now that I think on it.

All the old war movies say 'War is Hell'. They were wrong…Hell has _got_ to be better than that was. There are a lot of lousy jobs in the Army but overall the worst is the Infantry, which is about all I was qualified for. All the time I was hiking those miles in Basic Training I kept thinking of my folks trying to tell me to get an education and 'better myself.' I watched the field techs driving around in jeeps, fixing shit, then heading back to base. Yeah…they had the life.

Have you ever been to Alaska? It's cold. When it's not cold, it's wet. So, I spent the next three years being cold, wet or both. The place was crawling with Chinese so there we were, fighting a land war against a tough enemy that never seemed to end. Oh, they got younger, after the veterans were killed off early in the war, but even the young ones were tough as Hell and _very_ determined to place a bullet or bayonet roughly in the center of yours truly. I wasn't having any of that shit so I got very good at killing the enemy in as many ways as possible. I'll say one thing for combat; the idea of rank becomes a bit fuzzy. We had everyone from Sergeants to Colonels training us because they were short on instructors. I once got to hip-throw my Captain during Unarmed Combat. He _told_ me not to hold back, so I didn't.

I was never terribly smart but apparently being sneaky, blowing things up and killing people all came easy to me. I was promoted three times and busted back down twice. I would have been busted a third time but there was something about saving a bird colonel's life or some shit. I wound up with a few shiny ribbons, a really small pension (wounded in battle _three times_!) and a ticket home. Back to Sanctuary Hills where I had grown up. Everyone who had known me was gone. My girl, my kid, even my folks. They had died in a car accident my first tour in Alaska so I came home to a house that had been paid for with life insurance and then promptly sealed up for two years. What is a veteran with three years in combat by the time he's 21 supposed to do with his life, you ask? Well, I don't know about you but I became a drug dealer.

They say 'War Never Changes.' I'll tell you something else that doesn't change and that's secrets. Every little community has them and the sweeter it all looks on the surface, the rottener it is underneath. I took the little bit of money I had left after mustering out and bought a few choice supplies and household chemicals. It's amazing what you can do with baking powder, detergent, heat and patience. It wasn't hard getting on the inside track in the community. You host a cookout, make sure a couple of folks have a few beers too many and the next thing you know, they're telling you all about their terrible jobs, horrible marriages and how the whole world is galloping straight to Hell. In circumstances like that, helping out with a few home-made pharmaceuticals is just being neighborly, right?

For those that have never dealt drugs for a living, it's the easiest thing in the world to do. You start with a little Pep, they call it Jet these days, to keep tired workers awake. Mix it with a little Stim and now you get a really good high and a mild numbness. Very euphoric. Great for husbands who don't think their wives are 'excited enough' any more. I gave out a couple of samples at the cookout and the next thing I know, I'm cooking 6 days a week to keep up with demand. Once the money started rolling in, I could buy the real thing from local suppliers, mark up the price and sell that too. Day Tripper was the favorite that year but I sold everything up to and including black market cigarettes. Whole world is going to shit and these folks found the money to buy drugs, booze and smokes. Go figure.

All this leads me up to the Vault and the day that things _really_ went sideways. It was just another day for me except that my original still that I used for making moonshine conked out on me. I dragged it out the back door, cringing from the smell the whole way, and then went back inside to figure out how to get rid of the damned thing before someone realized what it was and called the cops. Then I heard a knock at the door. Shit! One of my neighbors was here for a pickup! I let him inside and we chatted for a minute while I put his order together. I had the radio on in the background and suddenly we heard the Emergency Broadcast thing screeching.

"Oh shit!" Miller said as we both turned towards the radio. The announcer was trying to stay calm but his voice was cracking as he read the reports of bombs hitting New York.

"I gotta get to the Vault!" Miller said as he snatched the paper sack full of drugs from my hand, threw a roll of bills at me and turned towards the door.

"You have a pass for the _Vault_?" I asked angrily as I grabbed him by his sweater. "How the fuck do _you_ rate the Vault?"

"I helped build the thing!" he shouted as he struggled with me. "Please! I have to get my wife and kid from the school!"

"Where is it?" I demanded as I slammed him against the wall and braced my arm across his throat. He was a desk-jockey and I was a former grunt…there was no contest. "Where is the pass to get in?"

He fumbled with the lanyard around his neck and fished out a plastic card with his name, the names of his wife and daughter and his driver's license all tucked into a clear plastic envelope. I didn't even hesitate. I slammed his head _through_ the wall separating my living room from my bathroom and he went limp. I snatched the lanyard from around his neck, stuffed my pockets with chems, money and a gold watch I'd taken in exchange for a really good night with a redhead and headed out the door. Everyone knew where the Vault was, the construction had taken years, so I just followed the rest of the running people.

Luckily, I knew one of the guys at the gate. I pushed my way through the crowd of people begging to be let in and caught my friend's eye. I passed a roll of c-notes to him through the fence as I made a big show of holding my Vault Tech ID over my head and he waved me through. Five grand for admission proved to be cheap, in the end.

I was standing on the platform when we all saw the flash. They sent the elevator down as the shock wave raced towards us. Everyone was crying and holding on to someone. I muttered a prayer…yeah, you heard me right, I prayed like I really meant it as the blast roared over our heads. Then the overhead door closed and the world was locked outside.

The techs inside were all scrambling around, trying to do in a few minutes' jobs they thought they'd have hours or days to do. Most people didn't make it in, what with five minutes between the first warning and the bombs hitting nearby. I waved my ID and they never even bothered to look at the picture. It said 'White, Male' and I was so that was enough given the circumstances.

Then the bullshit started. We all got a nice, new Vault suits and an escort to the 'decontamination tubes.' My gut told me not to get into that fucking thing but I was so stunned from what had happened I went in anyway. Then the timer counted down and I felt a cold like nothing I'd ever felt before. I dreamed, or at least I think I did, but then the next thing I remember was the smothering, the cold and the gunshots.


	2. Chapter 2

I finally managed to pick myself up off the floor and crawl towards the gunshots. The more I moved, the faster I thawed out. I spotted a water fountain next to a doorway and drank like there was no tomorrow. The cryo process had dehydrated me something awful and I gulped water until I was foundered.

The noise had died down and the water had helped loosen things up a bit so soon I was walking instead of crawling. That felt better…hands and knees on steel decking sucks. I found some dead…creatures…in the next hallway. They looked like roaches…big, horror-movie-sized roaches. Eat your dog for dinner roaches. What. The. Fuck? I spotted a security baton on a table next to the power room and decided going armed was better than not. There were no other sounds now, no signs of life. Eerie how quiet the world can get when you're alone.

I found a desk near the entrance with a working terminal. Apparently, the Vault staff had not been intended to stay after 6 months. When the food ran out, things got ugly, fast. Typical…everyone from the lowliest beggar to the highest king gets crazy when they're hungry. I found a pistol lying near the desk along with a lot more giant roaches. The first two had been crushed, maybe by a baton similar to mine. The rest were all burst by gunfire. My pistol held 20 rounds but there were no extras. Trigger discipline was going to be the order of the day.

I made my way outside and the light was blinding. I had been in the Vault Lord knows how long but my eyes were obviously not adjusted to daylight yet. I shaded my eyes and looked around. I didn't think it would be pretty but I wasn't prepared for the devastation. Wow…just…wow. It looked like every Twilight Zone episode after an atomic war ever. Only now it was live and I was one of the characters.

The guard shack near the entrance yielded a bottle of whiskey and I resisted the urge to sit down right there and get drunk. For all I know, I had already caught enough rads just walking around to kill me so what the Hell, right? Still, Mamma Smith didn't raise no quitters so I grabbed the bottle and headed out. There were a few crates on the ground, recently opened, and I thought about the shots. Someone else was alive all right and they weren't too far ahead of me. I quickened my pace until I crossed the bridge into Sanctuary Hills.

Some of the houses were still standing. It was a shock, seeing the place what felt like an hour ago, and now it was all gone. No way to tell how long we'd been frozen, maybe years. I heard voices and put on my sneaky hat while I crept around between the houses. I overheard a woman talking to her Mr. Handy robot…Codsworth was his name, I think. He was telling her that it had been over 200 years since the bombs had fallen. HUH? 200 YEARS? Oh shit! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! I left the woman crying about her dead husband and her missing kid and crept around to my old crib.

I had never really expected the bombs to fall. Hell, a lot of people didn't. Maybe we were just in denial. But it had happened and now two centuries had passed and we were seriously in the shit soup now. I broke down and took a hit off the whiskey as I snuck into my old place. Everything was right where I had left it from the trap on the safe to the busted still outside. I found another pistol, some boxes of ammo and a commando knife I had kept from my days in the Army. I'd take a lot of lives with that knife and I considered it a good luck charm. I found a few meds too and I was glad I had stashed it all.

A flash of inspiration sent me around the back of a neighbor's house and there, built up against the foundation, was a set of heavy steel doors. You have to admire people who plan ahead by building their own bomb shelter. It didn't look disturbed so I went on in. I was glad I did…it felt like a storm whipping up outside. I could hear the wind howling as I looked around. There was a light so there had to be power from somewhere. I poked around and found a safe, some supplies and three gold bars. No shit! Gold? Well, I guess if you want to prepare for the end of the world, there are worse ideas. Even more importantly, there was a mattress on the floor. It was stained and dirty and it felt like the softest thing I had ever slept on. Apparently, being frozen for 200 years, thawed and then climbing out into a radioactive wasteland makes you sleepy.

I woke up long after dark and the storm was gone. I had no idea of the time but it occurred to me that I didn't really have any appointments anyway. I chuckled, then I cried for a minute, overwhelmed by everything, then I hit the whiskey again. Enough of the pity party shit…time to get on with surviving. I wasn't dead yet so the rads must not have been too bad I guess. Time to roll out.

There was a tree fallen against the roof and I clambered up to get a better look. I could see for some ways but it didn't look any better from up there. I saw some lights in the distance. Lights meant power. Power meant people. I spotted something out of the corner of my eye and there, on the roof next to the chimney, was a military duffel bag. Score! Inside I found another pistol, some more ammo, more meds, an old uniform and a machete. More importantly, I now had a way to carry all the crap I'd been accumulating. If anyone ever asks how Man rose above animals, one of the answers has _got_ to be the invention of pockets and other ways to carry shit.

I loaded up and rolled out, heading across the foot bridge. There was a corpse on the far side, male, recently dead, next to some weird sort of dog carcass. He had a long coat and some canvass pants that weren't too bad and it occurred to me that a shiny blue Vault suit might not be the best idea of local clothes. I changed into the dead guy's duds and hoped they made me look like any other drifter.

I was wondering what had happened to the woman I had seen earlier but I needn't have wondered for long. I found her body at the Red Rocket station a few yards down the road from the dead guy. There were a couple of _big-assed_ rats working on her remains and what looked like a German Shepard. I shot the rats and moved closer to investigate. It looked like the rats had come right up out of the ground under her feet. The first bite had hamstrung her so she could neither stand nor run. Once she was down on the ground it was all over. The dog had killed three of the rats before they had swarmed him. What a shame…I liked dogs. I grimly searched her for loot, might as well call it what it was, and discovered she was wearing a Pip Boy. Score! The thing looked like it still worked and between that and the rest of her gear, it was quite a haul. I felt bad for her and worse for the dog. She had just crawled out of a frozen Hell, same as me, and all she wanted was to find her stolen kid. She hadn't made it a mile before the ugliness of the world swallowed her whole. Only the strong survive. That had been true before the bombs fell and now it was even more so.

I headed down the ruined road from the station, trying to head towards the faint glow in the distance. I was making my way through what was left of Concord when I heard gunfire. I crouched down and shook my head. Seems like everyone in the new world _still_ wanted to kill each other. Talk about war never changing…

I crept around the corner and saw a guy on a balcony outside some old building popping off laser shots at a nasty-looking gang down on the street. Lasers? They still had lasers? Maybe things weren't as bad everywhere as I thought. A laser weapon needed to be cared for, tuned, and the ammo couldn't be made just anywhere. This was encouraging. Now I had a decision to make. Side with the smelly nasties on the ground or help the guy with the laser. The decision was out of my hands as soon as I heard a footstep behind me. I turned and narrowly dodged the tire iron aimed at my head. Suddenly I was rolling around on the ground struggling with a guy wearing nothing but pants, boots and a gas mask. It was a bit weird but he was being serious about killing me so I didn't have time to wonder about the weirdness level. I lifted him off of me with a well-placed kick to the junk and as he tried to regain his senses I put two in the side of his head. I wasn't sure if the sounds of the struggle were going to attract attention so I decided to go on the offensive.

Soldiers can spot other soldiers and killers can spot other killers. I was both and I could tell that most of these guys were amateurs. Most of their weapons were cobbled together from pipes and metal junk and they had no armor to speak of. I had better guns, more experience and the recent action had started to shake the rust off. I was back in the game and there were going to be some dead bodies soon to prove it.

I made my way across the street into the building there. I'd heard shots from the corner and sure enough, there was a guy sniping out the window. He turned around just as my knife caught him in the throat. I left him there and moved on. On the same side of the street, close to the museum, there were two more. Two targets meant no more knife work. Despite what you see in the movies, one guy has a tough time stabbing a dozen people to death before any of them do anything. I had a 10mm in each hand as I crept up behind them and put one bullet in each skull. The last one was on the far side of the street from me and I saw her take aim from behind some sandbags. I was in the open and there was nowhere to dodge to. She brought the gun to her shoulder just before she suddenly vanished with a scream and a burst of light. I guess the guy on the balcony wasn't such a bad shot after all.

He shouted down to ask for my help, said he had more raiders inside hammering on the door. Begged me to pick up the 'laser musket' and help. I saw the weapon lying on the sidewalk outside the museum and had _no_ clue how it worked. Right…I would help but on _my_ terms.

There are times when you want to sneak up on someone all quiet-like. Getting the drop on the enemy can sure even the odds when they're stacked against you. However, there is something to be said for the shock factor of an all-out assault. Sometimes, an unsuspecting enemy will break and run in the face of a frightening opponent. The trick is to _look_ frightening even if you're not. In the movies, this is often called 'kick open the door and kill the monster.' I had no clue what I was walking into so I decided to try my luck. I took a pistol in each hand, checked to make sure they were fully loaded and then put my boot to the keyhole in the middle of the doors.

The moldy doors burst open and the whole scene went into a kind of slow-motion. Once your adrenalin gets to pumping and the shit starts flying your mind can do all kinds of cool things. The fact that I had popped some chems just outside the door didn't hurt either. I spotted two figures on the catwalk above me and put two slugs into one of them. The other spun to return fire but the Jet was flowing so I fired first. Nothing like watch a man's head explode. Very cool. The second guy dropped his shotgun, a sawed-off thing with a broken stock, and I caught it before it hit the floor. I heard footsteps to my right and turned as I knelt down. Amazing how effective this simple tactic is. You see, most people aim for center-mass on their target which is just above the waist. That means many shots fired in haste will pass through where your chest is. However, when you're kneeling such a shot will, hopefully, go over your head. That's exactly what happened when the third guy rounded the corner, blazing away with his revolver. I put both barrels into him for good measure and he died before he'd even hit the floor.

I moved through the ground floor and up the stairs. Enough of the assault phase of the operation, we were back to sneaking and shooting. I heard voices down a narrow hallway but I couldn't see anyone. A work light was shining right in my face and I didn't want to walk into what sounded like two guys while blind. Fortunately, I had picked up a couple of grenades from the dead woman and one of these rebounded nicely off the wall at the end of the hallway. The blast shook the dust from the ceiling and I heard a scream. I saw a leg and an arm fly into view and rushed down the hall. One man was dead and the other lying on the floor bleeding. I didn't waste the bullets on the second guy, letting my knife do the work. One of them had another shotgun and a handful of shells so I counted myself lucky and moved on. Up a flight of stairs I heard pounding on a door and angry voices. I'd found the raiders the dude outside had mentioned and they sounded pissed. A second voice told the first one they had other shit to deal with and to forget the folks trapped behind the door. The first voice agreed with promises of pain and torment to follow later.

The door jerked open and the man standing there was shocked as hell when the tire iron crashed down on his head. He staggered back and my kick sent him backwards through the crumbling railing. I dropped the iron and stepped through the door before his partner could react. His arm came up brandishing a pool cue. Seriously? You brought a club to a gunfight? Fucking amateurs. I blocked the cue with one arm while I put two slugs through his gut with the other. He stood there with this dumb look on his face as he went into shock. I pushed him over as the door opened and the guy with the laser called me inside. I didn't need any more prompting.


	3. Chapter 3

I've heard some stories before but what this guy was laying out for me just made me shake my head. He and his motley crew had been chased from one town to the other, losing people all the way. He mentioned Ghouls and explained that they were irradiated, fucked up people. Now he and his friends were trapped in a ruined museum while raiders surrounded the place. Looking around, I was curious as to what exactly they had worth raiding. I counted five people, only two of which were worth the weight of a turd, plus two kids and an old woman. No wonder he needed help.

The guy, he said his name was Preston, and his sidekick Sturgis had some wild plan to jump-start a suit of power armor on the roof, grab the minigun off the vertibird crashed up there and use it to see the rest of the raiders off. Problem was, the suit needed a fusion core and Sturgis couldn't get through the locked gate in the basement to get to it. I nodded my head at their plan, dismissed it about a second later and told them I'd take care of everything. I crept downstairs, mainly because the front doors were wide open and incoming fire _always_ has right of way, and picked the lock on the gate. Now I had one fusion core and no intention of using the minigun.

I'd been lucky enough to wear PA once or twice during the war, mostly for field tests and occasionally in emergencies when the regular pilot was dead or injured. The suits themselves are great, my problem with their plan was the minigun. Your typical 5mm minigun is essentially a lead hose that vomits bullets that are way too small over an area that's way too large in the hope of actually hitting something. No thanks. I had my own plan, thank you very much. I took the FC to the roof, popped it in the PA ('cherry' my ass…the thing was a wreck!) and climbed inside. Once I was sealed in the actuators took over and the suit moved with me.

I grabbed the minigun and slung it over my shoulder as I strode to the edge of the roof. I could hear pings as the bullets whined off the armor. Remember what I said about junk weapons? Yeah…those weren't going to be a problem even with the armor all busted up. I shot the guy yelling for his boss on the roof opposite me and then stepped off the edge. The raider I landed on was sure surprised. Half a ton of armored suit versus a sack with a couple of eye holes cut in it is no contest.

The raiders started crawling out of the woodwork, spurred on by their boss who was shouting orders as he darted across the street. I walked down the middle of the street like I was _made_ of steel, spitting fire and death in every direction. Every raider got two or more bullets as the situation dictated, ending with the boss who survived to the count of four. Made of sterner stuff I guess. His last two goons were at the other end of the street and we walked towards each other like we were right out of the movies. The difference was that I was damned near bullet proof and they weren't. The last one was hitting the ground when I heard a sound…some kind of roaring…and then suddenly the street erupted.

A man can see things that will toughen him up…prepare him for anything. I have seen some _shit_ in my time, but none of it prepared me for that. It was like a nightmare, climbing up out of the hole in the street. It was eight feet tall if it was an inch and it was all teeth and claws and really bad attitude. One of the raiders that had been around the corner turned to run from the thing but it bounded after him on all fours and caught him in about half a second. It grabbed him in its jaws and literally lifted him off the ground. The claws tore him in half at the waist before it dropped what was left of him to the ground. The blood was still dripping from its fangs as it turned towards me.

Remember what I said about the minigun? Well, it might be terrible for shooting at people but it's great for shooting at buildings, vehicles and the occasional giant monster. I slung the gun around, hit the trigger and felt the satisfying hum as the bullets poured out. I walked the stream of lead across the monster, staggering it. I noticed it was right next to a ruined car and I wondered if all those commercials about exploding engines were true. A few rounds later I discovered they were. The car exploded and the fireball knocked the critter sideways and set it on fire. All right then…we have a plan. I walked backwards at a measured pace as it roared again and charged me. There was an old pickup on the left and that too was touched off by the minigun. Two for two and the thing was _still_ coming! I heard Preston's laser snap and a bright red beam hit the thing square in the head. Now _that_ pissed it off! I stepped to one side as it raced by, looking like it would leap up and tear the balcony right off the building. I took the opportunity to spray the Hell out of it as it ran by and it died somewhere between me and the museum doors. I stood there for a few seconds as the dust settled and the smoke blew away with the breeze. It was a good day to be alive.

I went back inside and Preston was all smiles and glad to see me. Made out like I was their very own Second Coming. The old woman was babbling about something but then she got this puzzled look on her face. "Not the one," she said half to herself. "You are not the one." I recognized the lines on her face and the telltale color in her eyes. This one was a chem junkie from way back. Preston was going on about how she was leading them to a place called Sanctuary. Something about her having the 'sight.' Great…a true believer led by a junkie off to yet another version of Shangri-La. I smiled and took his money (bottlecaps… SERIOUSLY?) and told them I'd lead them there. I had no trouble with having a crew to guard my shit while I was gone and they didn't look like the types that would rob me blind if I was gone so whatever.

I pointed them up the road towards Sanctuary Hills and after they had left I looted every body I could find. PA suits can be touchy to maintain but one thing they _are_ good for is carrying shit. I must have had near 500 pounds of loot by the time I hiked out.

The others had reached Sanctuary by the time I got there. The FC was about dead so I stood the suit in the corner and stashed my crap someplace safe. I had quite a haul, more than I needed really. I handed out the guns that I didn't want to the others, adding a few pieces of armor. It was junk but it made them look tough and feel safer so whatever worked. Sturgis wanted me to help him get everyone settled in so after a hot meal (Giant mutant lizard tasted _good_ if you cooked it right. Who knew?) and a long sleep I helped the others set up some beds, a water pump and a couple of security barricades. I cobbled together a few of the guns into a crude defense turret to guard the bridge and told everyone _not_ to walk in front of it. The sensor was cracked so who could guess what it would fire at? Still, it looked menacing so that was something.

Preston was asking for my help with his personal little crusade to save the world. Apparently, he was the last of the Minutemen (there are too many sexual jokes there…) and he wanted me to help a settlement nearby. I started to tell him to kiss off and then I took a look around. People believed in him. Maybe not his mission but _him_. I wasn't a leader, never had been and I didn't want the title now. Leaders get shot early in the fighting, they're the first ones killed when the new regime comes along. I was determined that I was _not_ gonna be that guy. But if hanging with Preston and his boy band would lend me an air of respectability, I could go along with that. I put on a good face without letting him know what I was thinking. Sure…I'd do his dirty work for him because it's all I was good at. In return, I'd have food, shelter and someone to make sure I didn't get my throat cut in my sleep. I didn't have anything better going on so that was the deal.

I cooked up some chems, both for myself and for trading purposes, then rolled over for more sleep. The damned cryo was still kicking my ass and I wouldn't be 100% for a while yet. But I felt my old skills coming back, my old fire returning. Spending a year as a lazy drug dealer had made me soft…dulled my edge. I didn't have that luxury any more. Starting now, I was going to _own_ as much as I could hold onto and anyone who said otherwise was in for a world of hurt.


	4. Chapter 4

One thing that I learned quickly in the wasteland (everyone kept calling it 'the commonwealth') is that you can never let your guard down. I'd been thawed for two days and already I had a crew (they didn't know it yet), a tidy stash of guns, an even tidier stash of chems (they didn't know about those either) and a purpose. I was going to grab it all and shake it until it gave me what I wanted. I was young, strong, tough and patient. There were others out there, for sure, but I could wait. I'd grow stronger while they made mistakes and eventually I'd be king of the radioactive hill. What the Hell, a guy can dream can't he?

But those were big dreams and for now I was strictly small-time. Preston was asking me to help out some locals and food was hard to come by so our purposes dovetailed for now. I'm not about to scratch in the dirt all day for crops (which seemed to grow pretty fast for some reason, if they grew at all) so setting up farmers to feed me in exchange for protection seemed like a good deal. Anything was better than choking down radioactive leftovers. If I got lucky, I could snag some fresh meat while hunting. If you cooked it with the right plants you could get rid of the rads and it didn't taste half bad. Never thought I'd eat dog chops though. I wasn't hungry enough to eat roasted radroach (I saved the meat for the locals but, I mean, cooked bug guts? Really?) but as long as there was meat, taters and bread I'd be okay.

South of Sanctuary there was a little farm that I went to trade with. They'd had some raider trouble and I agreed to clear them out in exchange for a better price on the trade. It was on the way to the _other_ place Preston wanted me to help anyway so two for one. Along the way, I bagged a deer so a good score all around so far. I arrived at the old USAF station, Olivia the farmer had called it, and heard, you guessed it, more gunfire. I was going to have to find out where all of the ammo was coming from in this place since everyone seemed to have some!

I snuck up on the station and found a guy and his dog (a real one this time, not one of the fucked-up skinless ones) fighting off a swarm of _big_ flies. The flies were killed but then some more of those giant rats (Preston called them molerats) showed up. I shit you not, one of them had a _bomb_ strapped to it! I was grateful that I hadn't arrived a couple of minutes earlier because I might have been caught right in the middle of everything. The dog took out the first molerat, the Jihadist molerat took out the dog _and_ another molerat and the guy plugged the third one. While all this was taking place, his buddy was guarding the door to the station, just leaning in front of the window pretty as you please. Safety tip kids: _Never_ stand guard duty with your back to a window! I grabbed him through the window and put a knife through the back of his neck while his friend was taking care of business outside. I crept around after the gunfire died down and found his partner leaning in the doorway on the upper deck catching his breath. I almost felt sorry for the guy as I put two through his head.

The inside of the station was dark, damp and smelled of sweaty bodies and leaking oil. It was worse than outside and I began to understand why so many raiders wore gas masks. A dog padded by and I was grateful that one of the guns that I'd picked up had a silencer on it. I hated killing dogs but a well-trained one is more loyal than a human guard and a lot better at detecting hostiles. So determined, I plugged the dog as he turned towards me and then promptly did the same with his handler as _he_ rounded the same corner. He cried out as he fell and that's when the fit hit the shan.

I heard voices from somewhere below and coming from _both_ of the two directions leading out from the entry room. To the right was a set of stairs so I turned that way. I heard footsteps behind me so I dropped a little present on my side of the support column as I headed down. I love landmines. They can't be bargained with, or reasoned with. They don't feel pity or remorse. They do their job, which is to blow up. It's a simple purpose but one I utilized as often as I could. I'd picked one up off of one of the raiders in Concord and this seemed like a good time to use it.

I heard a bullet snap into the wall next to my head as I took the stairs two at a time heading down. Yes, I was using myself as bait for my own trap but the footsteps behind me quickened their pace so obviously, it worked. I heard the blast, and the very satisfying scream that followed it, and smiled to myself. I saw another raider walking past a doorway up ahead, seemingly oblivious to what was going on upstairs, and I snuck up on him from behind. One stab to the back of the skull later and I was the proud owner of a hand grenade. Just what the doctor ordered. I heard at least two other voices up ahead and promptly decided that since they had donated the grenade to a good cause, I should give it back to them in good faith. Just being neighborly, I guess. I kept the pin though. I like pins…

The grenade sailed past the head of yet another guy standing in yet another doorway (you would think that raiders were all part of a really strong union or something, what with all the standing around leaning on shit all day!) and the look on his face was memorable. His face was eradicated a second later when the grenade went off but it was _still_ memorable! While he and his buddies were staring, dumbstruck, at the grenade arching past, I was moving into the room, shotgun blazing. Shotguns are a tried and true weapon, used for nearly a century for everything from hunting to clearing a room. Unfortunately for them, I was using it for the latter. The gun roared as the grenade went off and blew the one guy all over the other guy. The shotgun shell finished _him_ off and from there it was smooth…

Minigun. Wait…let me say that correctly…THAT WOMAN HAS A FUCKING MINIGUN! There, that's better. So…yeah…I'm trapped in a concrete basement with a crazed woman with a minigun…pointing at me! She hit the trigger and I got a brief idea of how the big lizard (Preston called it a Deathclaw. Seemed appropriate) had felt. The bullets chewed through the wall where I had been standing and I dove through the doorway I had just come bursting out of. I quietly wished for another grenade, which I didn't have, and thought about my options. I didn't think for very long because I didn't _have_ many options and, oh, by the way, I mentioned the crazed woman with the minigun right? Well, she was following me and it's not like I'd covered a lot of ground. I thought back to my hand to hand instructor in the Army who had said, among other things, that 'A true warrior feels fear, but says fuck it anyway.'

Miniguns, like other large, heavy weapons, are wonderful for blazing away at a distance. In the close quarter conditions of hand to hand combat, however, they suck great big donkey balls. Ms. Crazy Woman found this out first-hand as she came around the corner and I exercised one of the few options available to me: I attacked. She swung the big gun around as I surged up from a crouched position and once I was closer to her than the business end of the gun it was all over…for her. I blocked the swing of the gun with my arm as the machete swung in an arc up and over my shoulder. The blade bit through the leather armor she wore and the carotid artery beneath. The arterial spray hit the ceiling, the wall beside us and me. She stared at me as the life pumped out of her, as if she couldn't believe that she was dying on her feet like that. Shock is a terrible thing and watching a person die up close and personal is no fun. I think that's why Man invented guns.

She slumped to the floor and I decided that leaning was actually a pretty good idea just then. I was gasping for air, because killing people is tiring, and I gulped down some water to wash the taste of cordite out of my mouth. I left the bodies where they lay, not like they were going anywhere, and I moved deeper into the station. I found the locket Abernathy had asked me about and decided to return it. I'd already found at least one other silver locket and if it got me better prices trading with them then what the Hell? Not like I could eat a locket anyhow.

The room beyond the next set of doors stunk of petroleum and I was not eager to walk in. Still, the doors had been locked tight so it was possible that the Mad Gunner and her friends hadn't managed to get inside. Little tip for surviving in a post-apocalyptic wasteland: In most cases, the best loot is behind the biggest lock. I slipped on a gas mask that one of the nearby souls wasn't going to need anymore and cautiously entered the room.

I hate bugs. Let me rephrase that: I REALLY hate bugs. I particularly hate them when they are big, glowing green and hissing _at me_. This one was all three so I snapped off a couple of shots and smiled at it popped. Giant mutant roaches should come with a warning label that reads 'Contents under pressure' or something. I saw a couple more of them, one as it reared up and _bit_ me on the leg, and promptly went all 'wild west guns blazing' on the room. Another safety tip: Never fire indiscriminately when standing in a pond of flammable liquid.

I was on fire. Wow…there are shittier ways to die but right at that moment I couldn't think of any. 'Stop, drop and roll' didn't really cover 'bathed in flammable liquid' so I leaped clear of the flames as best as I could. I stripped off the leather armor I'd been wearing, and the smoldering uniform underneath and by the time the flames were out I was down to my skivvies and scorched skin.

Allow me to explain one of the wonders of modern medicine: The Stimpak. Back before the war (I'll have to get used to that phrase someday), a pharmaceutical company called Lee Rapid had developed technology for reclaiming Anchorage called a Health Dispenser. It was basically an ammo station with a chemical dispenser attached so that troops far from support could stay alive. The chemicals that were injected were a miraculous cocktail of stem cells, painkillers, tissue accelerants and all kinds of other things that a growing boy needs. Essentially the painkillers keep you from going into shock while the stem cells move to the damaged tissue. The accelerants speed the healing process up a _lot_ while the vitamins insure that your body isn't consuming itself to stay healthy. One Stimpak usually dispenses enough drugs to heal a minor wound in less than a minute. More severe wounds require more than one Stimpak, of course. The process can even knit broken bones together and though this is not a pleasant process, it beats the alternative.

As I lay on the floor, watching the smoke roll off of my own body some part of my brain managed to fumble out a Stimpak and stab myself in the thigh with it. The euphoria alone was worth it. Sure, there's that sudden rush as the damaged tissue is replaced and your nervous system sends a great big _thank you_ to your pain center but just the idea that 'I'm not going to die right now' is, in and of itself, very pleasant.

I lay there for a full minute, allowing the drugs time to work. When I started to feel cold from lying on a damp concrete floor, I knew I'd be okay. I got up, slowly, and hobbled over to one of the raiders I'd killed. His clothes were bloodstained and had a couple of new holes in them but they were better than rapid-healing pink skin so I stripped him and got dressed. I grabbed up the essentials and lamented not having a shopping cart. There was _way_ more stuff than I could carry and no doubt locals would come by and strip out anything that I left behind. Fuck that. I'd done the work for it…I was going to keep it. I'm funny that way.

I went topside for a better look around. The raised platform revealed a couple of radstags (does _everything_ have the word 'rad' attached to it these days?) and I grabbed one of the rifles I'd just acquired. I hit one and it went down but the other one bolted. Oh well, still enough for dinner. There was a cooking fire on the main floor so I went to collect the stag and bed down for the night. When I got there, I found, lo and behold, a crashed vertibird. Better yet, there was a PA frame standing right there in the open! I dashed back into the base and pulled the FC from the reactor in the basement. God bless the engineers who decided to make these things universal! I hiked the frame back to the base (and it really was a frame, plus one set of leg armor) and began to load up. I still had to leave some stuff behind but it was mostly junk anyhow. Talk about a good haul!

I trudged back to the Abernathy's and gave them their late daughter's locket. They were so pleased they agreed to the trade deal on the spot. They also agreed to partner with Preston's boy band (now introducing Preston Garvey and the Minutemen! Crowd cheers…) on the spot. I was lugging about a quarter of a ton of shit so we struck a deal and I traded some really crappy guns and some worthless .38 caliber ammo for a pile of food. Seems their farm actually produced more than they could eat. Go figure. I helped them set up a small radio transmitter that told others with ham radios that there was room to expand at the farm and then headed home with my plunder. The whole town turned out when I stumbled in with 200 pounds of meat, potatoes and veggies. As we sat around eating off of cracked plates with bent silver and everyone acted like it was the best day ever. When a good day is 'I didn't die', people are pretty easy to please.

I parked the PA frame (I wonder how many of _those_ I'm going to have before I get done), cleaned my weapons ( _never_ go to sleep with a dirty weapon under your pillow) and bedded down for the night. Tomorrow I would finally go and check out the folks Preston had asked me to help and see what else I could find.

The world was fucked. Radiation, raiders, and mutated monsters all over the place. Humans are pretty fragile and now it looked like the whole world wanted to kill us even more than usual. I needed a plan. Once I had more details about the world around me, I would settle down to make one. Preston and the others were starting to look to _me_ for advice. Okay…so I wouldn't _tell_ them that I was a former drug-dealing low-grade maniac who actually enjoyed killing certain people from time to time.

Everyone has their secrets…right?


	5. Chapter 5

I'm gonna punch Preston in the face when I see him next. Seriously? The folks at Tenpines (it was more like 3 scrubby bushes…not many pines) told me they'd had raider trouble. Not like I'd ever heard _that_ story before in the past few days. They'd overheard one of the guys talking about the Corvega plant nearby so they figured that's where they were based out of.

Well…shit. I mentioned that my dad had worked there back before the war? Yeah…the place was a maze, inside and out. Some of the worst fighting I'd ever seen was the house-to-house shit in Alaska and it was never fun. Every doorway was a potential trap, every catwalk a spot for someone to shoot you from or drop something horrible on you. If they were dug in there, getting them out was not going to be easy. I nodded and smiled and told them that everything would be all right (amazing how many people are comforted by this…) and headed off to scout the place out.

It's amazing what you run into just walking around the countryside. By 'countryside' I mean 'blasted, ruined, radioactive wasteland' but you get the idea. I heard some angry voices from up ahead and, as usual, decided that discretion was the better part of not getting killed. I spotted some rough-looking types (pretty normal these days) having a shouting match with a woman inside a diner. They claimed she owed them money for drugs. She said her boy was strung out on their junk and she wasn't paying them shit. It was looking like it was going to go south when the head of the guy doing the talking exploded. His lady friend turned towards me just as the lady from the diner opened fire on her. That's the trouble with getting caught in the open in a gunfight…you don't know which way to shoot first so you often wind up dying while trying to decide. She found this out the hard way as I stepped from cover and finished what the diner lady had started.

"Is this going to be trouble?" the lady asked as she came out of the diner and leveled her revolver at me. I ignored her and walked over to the two former drug dealers who were getting used to their new occupation of being dead.

"Not from me," I replied as I looted the two on the ground. They had some caps, some chems and a couple of better-than-average weapons so I helped myself before rolling the bodies into a nearby ditch. No point in scaring off potential customers with bodies lying all over the place. By the time I was done she was back at her post inside the diner.

"I can sleep easier at night, knowing that Wolfgang is rotting in Hell," she said as I stepped inside. Her boy was sitting in the corner, hugging his knees and muttering to himself about bugs. "Thanks, stranger. My name's Trudy. What can I do for you?"

"Trading post?" I asked as I looked around. She didn't look like she had much to sell or much money to buy but what the Hell? Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"All at discount prices, but none of its junk," she said a little defensively.

"I need a place to trade stuff I don't have a use for," I tried the soft opening on this one. Anyone willing to face down a drug dealer and his muscle would not respond well to a hard sell. "You seem to be in a good location here so I figured we could help each other out."

"No chems," she said immediately. "My boy over there has enough trouble without that shit being around."

"Just Stimpaks," I replied, "nothing heavy. And whatever loose stuff I find. Guns and such."

"Mercenary?" she asked pointedly.

"Survivor," I replied easily. Sure, I would kill for money but no sense in getting that kind of rep this early in the game. Might tarnish my otherwise sterling background. Yes…that was a joke.

"I could use a better supply of merchandise," she said as she leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. She trusted me not to shoot her. That was good. "Carla wanders by from time to time but I can't count on her, you know?"

"Carla? Never met her."

"Trashcan Carla, some folks call her," she explained. "She's a bit rough around the edges but junking out in the Commonwealth alone does that. Her prices are fair but you never know what she'll have. One days it's cans of food, which is great, the next it's a dozen typewriters."

"Next time she comes by, send her to Sanctuary Hills," I asked and pointed towards home. Home... now _there_ was a concept I would have to get used to. "If she can set up a regular run from here to there, so much the better for all of us."

"I can do that. You planning on having anything the next few days? My stocks are looking a bit lean"

"I'll likely be back in a couple of days with a pile of guns and armor," I said as I checked her face for a reaction. She wasn't surprised…she'd seen it all before.

"How likely is 'likely'?"

"Well, if you don't see me in three days, send Carla to Sanctuary Hills and tell them I'm not coming back," I said flatly.

"Oh… _that_ kind of likely. I can do that."

I left the Drumlin Diner and headed towards the Corvega plant. There was still a lot of ground to cover and the impending storm would be good for masking my approach. I found a ruined house nearby and skulked into it. The roaches inside were as surprised to see me as I was to see them but, fortunately, roaches don't carry guns…yet. The silencer meant that the sentries outside the plant didn't hear the ruckus and I settled in for a look-see. I was immediately depressed.

The plant was a worst-case scenario for me. Guards all over the place outside plus a turret guarding the front door. They had power because they had searchlights out front and up top as well. The guards looked like the same types that I had seen in Concord. I thought about the Corvega keychain I'd found on one of their guys and understood that this was a bigger outfit than I'd originally thought. It wasn't one gang hitting Preston's people and another raiding Tenpines…it was one _big_ gang with lots of groups working the area. That changed things, but not by much.

A good military operation requires three things: Planning, Execution and Logistics. Planning is exactly what it sounds like…figuring out the objective and how to get the job done. Execution is the business end of things. How to _do_ the job, the hands-on, dirty part that most people avoid. Logistics is everything that makes the other two parts happen. Weapons, food, transport, medical help and all the rest come under the term Logistics and it's every bit as important as the other two. If one of the three parts falls down, your op is fucked…plain and simple.

I was never high enough up the food chain to do much in the way of planning and logistics seemed boring to me. I've always been more of an 'Execution' kind of guy, in every sense of the word. I made my way around the place as best as I could, scoping out the opposition, different ways in and so forth. Any way you sliced it, it was going to be a shitshow. Not even a _good_ shitshow but a bad Rolling Stones cover band on a Tuesday night show.

Kicking open the door on this one was going to get me killed so I spent the day, and most of the night, trying to figure it out. Early in the morning I got an idea and trudged back into Concord. I'd remembered seeing something that made me curious and I wanted to check it out. Sure enough, right about where the Deathclaw (still a cool name…) came out of the ground there was a Municipal Plutonium Well. I peered into the hole the Deathclaw had come out of and it led into the sewer system. Needless to say, the smell was terrible but I slipped on a gas mask and headed down anyway.

I won't bore you with the details but I found what I was looking for. Municipal Plutonium Shafts had been placed all over the country in the half-century before the war and were probably the main reason why there was still power to so many places. The access tunnels to this one included several molerats, a few really old skeletons (likely from workers killed during or shortly after the war) and a gigantic lobster-like critter. Killing this last bit took a well-placed Molotov, several shots to the shell (which were useless) and one lucky shot to the head. I would like to say that this last one was accomplished due to my steely eye, steady hand and years of training but in truth I was aiming center mass and the thing ducked down just as I fired. My bullet and his head had a brief discussion whereupon his head said 'fuck it!' and burst like a melon.

My primary reason for coming down here in the first place was the fusion reactor that was normally located near the well. The idea was that, rather than have a really _big_ power station outside the city, there would be several smaller ones scattered about wherever they found enough nuclear material to power the thing. This scattered the power grid around and made it almost impossible to take out completely because, rather than a single target, an enemy would have to knock out hundreds of small stations. I found the reactor, as well as some generic junk to loot, and pulled the core. Now I could see about the Corvega plant.

I hurried back to Sanctuary Hills, installed the core in the PA suit left over from the museum and smiled when I saw that it was nearly full. I cobbled together what I could (the leg piece from the downed vertibird was a bad fit but I made it work), grabbed what I needed for serious work and headed back. I grabbed a nap before leaving, timing it so I would arrive back at the plant in the middle of the night. Safety tip: Most guards on duty at night begin to get really tired between about 2 and 6 a.m. The body's circadian rhythms are telling you to sleep right about then and staying awake, especially if there's nothing going on, is a chore. I planned to take advantage of this as much as I could.

I parked the PA in the ruined house (since sneaking around in it was like silently approaching in a bulldozer) and began circling the plant. I found a good vantage point on the ruined elevated highway nearby and started shooting. I was not a qualified sniper in the Army but many of my targets were unaware, standing still and silhouetted by the lights behind them. Absolute suicide for a guy with a .708 rifle, a good scope, a silencer and a mean streak. I started at the bottom of the plant, picking off guards as they walked their little patrol areas. Then I gradually worked my way up, taking my time and shooting when they were alone. Another basic tenant of guard duty: Always have a buddy. Not only will they help keep you awake but it's harder to silently kill _two_ guys at a time. Why not start at the top, you might ask? That's easy…I didn't want the blood dripping down on the people below. Gruesome, but true.

I'd cleared the front and was working my way around to the back when I heard shouting. Well, the best laid plans never survive contact with the enemy so I hurried into my secondary position and hunkered down to wait. I was inside one of those mobile huts next to the loading dock when I heard booted feet coming up the concrete stairs from below. I also heard an explosion that rocked the hut and I smiled. Landmines and I were having a great relationship that I planned to continue for some time to come.

I rushed out of the hut and finished off the wounded guy outside before making my way across the loading dock to the catwalk above. What a mess…metal stairs and creaking metal _everywhere_. Not many places to hide or dodge a bullet and still way too many damned lights. I found a supervisor's terminal, hacked in and shut down the spotlights at least but the rest of the safety lights were on another system. Still way too bright outside for my taste.

I made my way across the skybridge to the larger part of the plant, killing as I went. I got grazed a couple of times but nothing serious and by the time I got inside I counted six dead total. I dropped through a hatch in the corner of the roof and found the inside a lot quieter than the outside. One advantage to the general loss of technology after the war was that very few people had radios to report trouble. Unless someone inside went out, or someone outside came in, nobody in here would know anything.

I made my way downstairs and saw a telltale pool of liquid on the floor. Uh oh…I've seen this movie before. I didn't like the ending the first time. The oily slick seemed to be coming from a fuel tank at the bottom of a flight of stairs and there were a couple of guys milling about nearby. I tossed a can against the wall behind them and slid back into the shadows. Yeah, it was a cheesy ploy, but nobody had seen a movie in two hundred years so it worked. They turned to find the source of the noise and warily moved closer to the corner. That's when I leaned out and put three bullets into the fuel tank. The explosion was LOUD in the confined, concrete space and the mini-mushroom cloud told me that the 'fuel tank' had actually been a fusion power cell for a car. Okay…my bad that time. The force of the blast evaporated the two poor souls standing next to it, bounced my head off the doorframe behind me and caused the Geiger counter in my Pipboy to suddenly go berserk.

I lay there on the catwalk landing, stunned and lying mostly face-down as someone stepped over me to see what was going on. Fortunately, none of these guys understood what a uniform was, or how useful it can be, so they mistook me for one of their own and moved on by. I waited as she descended the staircase slowly and when her head was level with me I shot her with the pistol. The shot was loud, even with the silencer, so I knew I was attracting attention. I moved down the stairs and toward the hall as I heard commotion behind me.

The hallway split in two and I headed down first. I knew that eventually I would reach the bottom and could then start back up. I heard shooting up ahead that, for a change, was not aimed at me. I crept closer as I heard a turret's servos and snarling sounds…then silence. I spied the turret at the end of the concrete hall surrounded by bodies. I managed to get behind the thing without being detected (thank someone for old sensors) and smashed it with a tire iron. The ghouls were scattered everywhere and I moved to one side as I heard voices from behind me.

"I tell ya I _heard_ the turret firing!" one voice said.

"Well if the crawlies got in again there'll be Hell to pay." another replied. To my right I spotted a body, a fresh one I mean, and it looked like he'd let his guard down and the ghouls had gotten to him. He must have slapped the turret on just before he died or there's no way they could have gotten through to him. Fortunately for me, he had some rifle ammo on him (I was running a bit low) and I waited for the voices to draw closer. They must have seen (or smelled) what had gone down and decided against a closer inspection. Lazy guards make my job _so_ much easier! They brushed against the strings of cans as they turned to head back and that was my cue to swing around the corner and open up with my backup pistol. The big .44 roared in the small space and I would be deaf for a few minutes but one shot each put them both down for their dirtnap.

The far side of the room revealed a tunnel that opened into a sewer pipe big enough to stand upright in. That must have been how the ghouls got in. I wanted to use this as a potential way back out and I lamented smashing the turret beyond repair. Oh well…nothing for it now. I moved back up the tunnel, confident that there were no bad guys behind me. Another side room revealed two more goons but they stood close together and a simple run-and-gun took them out. Two more ghouls emerged from a grate in the floor, or tried to anyway, but a shot to the head stilled each of them before they could clear the grate.

This was getting intense and the adrenaline in my veins was making my ears ring. I made my way to the main assembly floor and saw that it was right back to the shitshow. Two turrets stood on top of the office built up above the main assembly level with at least three people walking around. I spotted an old Protectron guard robot still in the recharging station. Nah…no _way_ that thing would still work after all this time. Would it? The charging station was lit up so it had power. I traced the wire back to a terminal near the elevator and gave it a try. I'm not a hacker by any stretch but when the password is 1,2,3,4,5 it can't be that tough to get in. I powered the thing up, turned off the targeting parameters and then moved back to the stairs to watch.

The cover of the charging station slid back noisily and the Protectron stepped out spouting something about law and order. The trio in the elevated office started shooting, the turrets starting shooting and the Protectron started shooting back. In the commotion, I moved to my left and took out one of the turrets with a couple of rifle shots. Everyone was still looking at the robot so I lobbed my last grenade into the office unobserved. The blast knocked one guy over the railing where the Protectron proceeded to crush him with its mechanical claws. One other one had died already and the robot and the remaining turret managed to blow each other up at just the right moment. I raced up the metal ramp and found the bridge to the office retracted. On the other side stood the guy who seemed to be giving the orders. He was bleeding from a nasty head wound and I took advantage of the blood running into his eyes to shoot him before he could raise his weapon. Never fight fair when you're fighting for your life.

I heard voices from the direction I had come and two more raiders came around the corner just as the plant was rocked by a series of explosions. Apparently, the cars in this part of the plant were nearly done so they actually had their fusion reactors in place. The firefight must have touched one off because the shockwaves drove me to my knees and blasted one of the two below into fragments. The other one just managed to dive behind a control panel as the blast hit but it didn't spare her much. I could hear her crying as I picked myself up and staggered back down the stairs to where she lay against the panel. Her leg was twisted into an unnatural angle and one arm was burned down to the bone. She had nerve though because her face twisted into a hateful glare when she saw me. She tried to reach her pistol but the blast had thrown it too far away.

"All this fuss over little old me?" I smirked as I stooped closer. "Sorry love, but in a different set of circumstances I might have joined your side. Instead, here we all are, watching the world burn down."

"Fuck you," she said simply. I could tell that even that much was an effort so I straightened up and shot her in the head as a piece of mercy. No way a Stimpak was going to fix all of _that_ damage anyhow.

I took my time looting the place, dragging everything to the front lobby over several trips. I made a good job of it too since I didn't want to be bothered coming back. Then I went back outside, grabbed the PA suit and came back in for the swag. I figured out how to shut off the turret outside for good measure then emptied its ammo bin. I'd turn it back on when I left and hopefully the menacing whirr of it would keep the place clear for a few days. Just in case, I hung several raider bodies from the railing outside and, with a convenient can of green paint I found in the plant, wrote 'No More!' in letters as tall as I could reach. Maybe this would convince the next batch of assholes to look for greener pastures somewhere else.

Just as before, the PA was most useful as a cargo mule and I fitted up a metal sled to drag away as much loot as I could. The sun was coming up as I headed for the diner. Trudy would shit herself when she saw what I was hauling. Then I could tell the folks at Tenpines/Skinnybush that their troubles were over for now and maybe get them to join Preston's little commune.

The good guys lived…the bad guys died. All in all, a pretty good day.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up a little bit confused…forgot where I was and what was happening for a minute there. I was in a bed, in my house…or what was left of it…and it was raining outside. Sturgis had managed to fix the roof enough that it didn't leak too badly now so there was that at least. I lamented the lack of indoor plumbing (you don't understand the fall of civilization until you can't take a hot shower…) and headed for the outhouse. This is one of the reasons I hated camping.

I got dressed and strolled past the community cooking area. Mamma Murphy may have been a half-crazed chem-addict but the things she could do with a few plants and any kind of meat made me grateful she was around. Like many folks of my time, I was spoiled by the convenience of packaged food and carryout meals. When you have no choice, you eat what's in front of you and appreciate it. Today it was molerat stew and bread tough enough to drive nails with but it tasted good and filled the belly. She still gave me a bit of the stink eye as I moved through the line but I'd gotten used to that. We'd set up a few tarps to cover a common eating area too. It was outside but the rain stayed off the food anyhow.

I saw Preston out of the corner of my eye as I sat down. He and I had gotten into it a bit when I got back from Corvega. He'd made note of the fact that the sled I was dragging had more armor and weapons than food and water and asked about stuff I'd left behind.

"Yeah, this was all I could haul. If I happen to go by there again I may try for the rest…if it's still where I left it.:

"You have a pile of guns and armor but not much in the way of supplies," he said critically. "The meat you've been bringing in has helped a lot but these people need food to survive. You can't eat guns."

"And you can't shoot Cram at raiders, either," I snapped back. "Garvey, you know more about living out here than I do and that's a fact, but you're not the only one with training. I've done everything from spec ops to full-on battles with tanks, planes and lots of men on _both_ sides. You're not dealing with some hick with a rifle here. I _know_ how to survive."

"You know how to survive in a war…with supplies and support and equipment around you," he shot back. He wasn't really angry but he was determined to make his point. "You've never had to worry about supporting a whole community before, at least not that you've ever let on. There are still a _lot_ of things we don't know about you, Smith. Like where would you ever get training and combat experience with tanks and planes? That sort of combat went out with the War."

"Don't tug that thread yet, Garvey," I cautioned him. "I happened to show up when you needed help and I helped. You asked me to stay and I stayed. You asked me to help out some people and I did and now we've got two farms trading food for weapons, armor and protection. All in less than a week. Considering you were about an hour short of being raider-chow when we met, I'd say you've come out of the deal pretty good so far."

"I'm not disputing that point," he replied, his tone a little softer. I'd hit a nerve. "But I've been burned by people I trusted before. Sure, you've helped us out a _lot_ but in return you get three hots a day, a place to sleep without worrying about waking up in some dog's teeth and you even get some company now and then. That new girl that strolled in the other day? You two aren't exactly discreet."

"All I'm saying is that if I'd wanted to hurt you or your people, I could have joined the raiders back in Concord," I said, dialing my own tone down a notch. I was right, he _knew_ I was right, so there was no point in beating him up with it. Negotiations 101. "If I'd wanted to hurt those people you asked me to help, I could have taken raiders right back to _them_ too. I helped you and yours out in Concord and trusted you to watch my back when we came here…now I expect you to trust me when _I'm_ the one laying my neck on the line out there. Our defenses, and the defenses of those two farms, are pathetic. We need training, weapons, ammunition and proper defenses."

"People can't do all of that on an empty stomach," he replied firmly. "These people know what's at stake. They stare at death almost daily. They're willing to work like Hell to survive…but work means food, clean water, and rest. There's no point in having guns to shoot or walls to defend when the people are staggering zombies from hunger and exhaustion."

"I can't argue with that," I agreed. "We need a compromise, then. How about we bring one person here from each settlement to train? They can pick their own representative…someone they know and respect. No point trying to shove information down their throats. They have to be willing to listen to whoever is talking to them."

"And we train the representative, then they go back and start to train the rest of their people," he nodded as he mulled it over out loud. "Now _that_ is a plan I can get behind. Each settlement rep will know their own people better than we will. They'll have a better idea who to train for security, who to assign to building, who to run supplies. Each to their own talents."

"Right. Then, once we have more materials, more food, and more weapons you and I can go from one settlement to the next, inspecting the defenses and adding to the training. They'll already have the basics so we're not wasting our time with how to load a gun and simple shit like that. We can check lines of fire, maybe teach a few simple tactics. Different enemies might attack in different ways."

"Yeah, Super-Mutants are way different than raiders or Ghouls," he agreed. I had to stop him for a moment.

"Wait…Super _what_ exactly?"

"Super-Mutants," he said again. I wanted to make sure I'd heard him right the first time. "Really big, mostly pretty dumb but strong as Hell. They eat most things smaller than themselves, usually things with two arms and legs. On a good day, the Mutants and the raider gangs fight each other. No matter who wins, it's good for us. Sometimes though, they attack settlements. The people mostly run and hide and the Mutants smash everything they can find. Fighting them isn't often and option because they can take a dozen hits from a pipe rifle and sometimes they carry heavier guns."

"Like the minigun we pulled from the vertibird?"

"Yep…sometimes missile launchers," he nodded.

" _Missiles_?" I gaped. Up until now the biggest explosive I'd seen, that I hadn't made myself, was a grenade. If someone had missiles that changed the rules of the game. "How the Hell can missiles still fire after all this time?"

"Mostly military crates," he replied. "Sometimes you find a stash somewhere, sealed up since the war. There are a couple of factions that might be able to make their own but I'd bet they're still just reusing pre-war machinery and figuring out how to make it work. Homemade missiles tend to just blow up in the tube. You know anything about military ordinance?"

"I've blown up a few things in my time," I hedged. "I wouldn't want to arm any of our people with something like that…not yet anyway. It's a shame Molotovs take so damned much fuel and we never seem to have enough of it. I'd trust people with those and most things with a brain are afraid of fire."

"Another thing to table for another day, I guess,"

It had been a tense few minutes but we'd both said what we'd had to say and had found a good middle ground. Now here he was again, trying to figure out how best to make his approach. I decided to let him off the hook this time.

"You lookin for me?" I said as I strolled up, still finishing breakfast.

"How can you tell?"

"You looked at me during breakfast and these days we only talk when we're fighting or you need me to do something," I replied casually around a mouthful of stew. "I appreciate you waiting until after breakfast, though."

"I know it seems like I'm asking a lot of you, and I am, but you know what being in the military is like. The minute you prove you're capable of doing something…"

"…suddenly the job is yours," I finished the sentence for him. It was an old adage of the military, _any_ military, that no good deed went unpunished. I'd proved that I could shoulder more than most and that meant that I would be asked to. Some days it's better to keep your head down.

"Word has started to get around about us helping other settlements," he said as he took out his map and laid it on the table. "There's a place called Oberland Station, next to the railroad tracks just across the river. They sent word that raiders are taking their food at gunpoint…the usual tactics."

"That's quite a hike," I told him and I measured it out with my thumb. "What's the river water like?"

"Not as hot as the standing water around here, moving water tends to be a bit cleaner, but you don't want to go swimming in it if you don't have to. There's a bridge to the East, near the brewery, and a railroad trestle you can cross due North of the station. If you follow the tracks headed South, you can't miss it."

"It's a haul but I can check it out," I replied with a sigh. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life defending farmers but for now it seemed like a good way to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly. The redhead that had wandered in a few days ago wasn't tough to look at either and she liked the idea of not wandering around in the wilderness, alone. As long as I didn't have a better plan, I might as well go along for the ride.

"I appreciate that," he said. "Anyone that you bump into along the way, feel free to mention us at your discretion."

"Thanks, Dad," I smirked, then remembered something. "I heard someone talking about a farm run just by robots. Know anything about that?"

"There's a place called Graygarden just north of Oberland," he pointed to the map. "That might be it. I don't know how robots could do something like that without at least _some_ Human direction though."

"Oh, it wouldn't be that difficult, Sir," we both heard from behind us. I hadn't seen much of Codsworth since we'd had to tell him his Missus was dead so he startled me a little. "A collection of robots, with the right programming, could easily handle a small farm for an indefinite period of time. We never tire or sleep, you know."

"Would they be willing to trade with us, do you think?" Preston asked.

"I'm not sure," he replied after processing for a moment. "They might though, if their programming allowed it. I could go with you if you liked. They might be more willing to speak to me."

"You're not exactly the sneakiest toy in the box, Codsworth," I said as I looked him up and down. Shiny metal everywhere, that damned thruster that he used to stay in the air. He'd be useful but any chance of creeping around quietly went out the window with him around.

"Oh please, Sir," he begged. "It's been just terrible around here since the bombs fell. Two centuries with no one to talk to…no one to serve. Then the Missus tells me that Sir was killed, Shaun was kidnapped and then she's killed by those creatures at the Red Rocket station. I was the one that gave her directions to _go_ there. Maybe if I'd insisted that she stay here…"

"What do you think, Smith?" Preston asked. I could see he was skeptical.

"Codsworth, how much weight can you carry?" I asked.

"My thrusters are working at over ninety percent efficiency," he announced proudly. "I can easily carry a hundred pounds and still function."

"That settles it, then," I announced firmly. "I can take him along to help me carry shit if nothing else. If I find anything particularly valuable, Stimpaks or food or clean water, I can load him up and send him back with them. Then he can fill you in on my progress and either wait here or come back as the situation dictates."

"You _have_ done this before," Preston smiled. "Okay, Codsworth…let's get you fitted with some cargo bags of some kind. No point in filling your hands if there's a fight."

"Right away, Sir!" Codsworth replied happily. Great, my new partner was an over-exuberant robot with a rocket engine stuck up his ass. And I was going to take him into the unknown with me. My life just keeps getting better and better.


	7. Chapter 7

I've learned a lot of valuable lessons in my life…many of them the hard way. Some lessons are better learned that way because they tend to be the ones that really stick with you. Things like standing up first in a firefight, looking at a pretty girl when you have one already on your arm and eating food that either moves, glows or both. These are the kinds of lessons that most people will benefit from in life. I'd just learned a new one recently: Don't deviate from a well-laid plan.

Codsworth and I had made good time after we set out. He told me where the nearest branch of the railroad track was and we headed that way. The route took us through Concord but that was still deserted. I checked it over briefly, now that I wasn't getting shot at or chased by giant lizard-monsters, but pickings were pretty slim. We headed for the Starlight Drive-In next because it was right in line with the tracks. There were a few molerats there and I learned that Codworth's buzz saw attachment was very handy for cutting meat. I made a mental note about all the scrap metal laying around and pressed on.

We found the tracks and turned south. We discovered a few wrecked train cars and, lo and behold, another suit of Power Armor. I shook my head at how much of this shit I was finding just laying around and wondered about how people had managed to live for two centuries without searching their own back yard for useful shit. The PA was locked inside a security cage and the terminal access code was a bitch to hack into. I gave up after half an hour and marked the location on the map for later. We encountered some lightweight threats along the way, mutant dogs, mostly, and we reached Graygarden by early afternoon.

This is where that whole 'deviate from the plan' thing came in. Apparently, the robots there had been programmed by some mad-scientist type back before the war and now three of them were running the place. They traded the crops they grew, but didn't eat, with the occasional passerby for spare parts and Mr. Handy fuel cylinders. However, their water supply had recently become contaminated and smelled worse than bad. If they didn't get it fixed soon the crops would die. I looked at all that food just going to waste and shook my head. Ms. White, the chief robot, said that their water came from the nearby Weston Water Treatment Plant and offered ample reward if I went to have a look. I sighed and agreed.

We followed the tracks south, crossed the river and walked into Oberland Station. Like the other settlements before, they were surprised to actually _get_ help. Apparently, a raider gang operating out of a clothing store downtown had been giving them the strong-arm treatment and I added it to my growing to-do list. The treatment plant and the raiders were in opposite directions so I sat down to assess my options. I know nothing about how a water treatment plant works so I opted for the devil I already knew and headed for downtown Boston.

Codsworth and I made our way along the river until I could see the store from up the road. They had a guard outside, and a sentry turret in a shopping cart, so I told Codsworth to stay put while I did my thing. One sneaky stab and a couple of swings with a tire iron and the entrance was clear. I checked the guard post for ammunition and found, set as a trap inside one of the big sewer pipes lying nearby, a fucking rocket launcher! Preston had said that some folks had them and now here I was. I found two spare rockets at the guard post and carefully deactivated the trap. No sense in blowing myself up now. I motioned for Codsworth to join me and we quietly nudged the door open.

Our travels had taken us a while so it was well past dark by now. I saw a really bright light coming from underneath the door and that told me it would be _bright_ inside. Good tactic…aiming a light at the entrance. Blind anyone coming in as well as making them visible and easy to shoot. The raiders at Corvega had done the same thing once or twice. I slowly turned the knob, made sure the latch was disengaged and then motioned for Codsworth to go in first.

Now before you all go crying about how cowardly that was, stop and think about it for a minute. I was going into an unknown situation, most likely with a guarded position, an obviously hostile force and no intel to speak of. Codsworth wasn't exactly combat certified but it would be easier to fix him than it would be to set a broken arm or heal a perforated liver on _me_. Plus, his eyes could adjust to the bright lights faster than mine could. All this being said, I sent him in and followed immediately after, using the bulk of his body to block the lights so I didn't go blind.

We were lucky enough to catch the guards flat-footed and that's what saved us. Codsworth charged straight at the nearest one while I crabbed low and to the right. I heard a shotgun go off, then another, and then a small caliber weapon. I got one of the raiders in my sights and dropped them. Codsworth was tangling with the other one but the light had them completely washed out. I heard a man scream and Codsworth emerged from the light with blood splattered all over him. Apparently, the first shotgun blast had been a crude trap rigged to fire at intruders but Codsworth had crossed the tripwire so fast that it had fired behind him.

I fished the shotgun from the vice, plus a few shells from one of the guards, and then looked around. We heard movement upstairs but nobody had the balls to come down and check. Some things never change…like everyone in an undisciplined group thinking that it was the _other_ guy's job to go down and do the dangerous shit. Nobody stepped up so we had the ground floor to ourselves.

"You all right, buddy?" I whispered to Codsworth before moving on.

"Right as rain, Sir!" he replied, just a bit too loud. What the Hell…not like nobody knew we were coming, right? We stepped into the hallway and moved to the next room. Our tactics were the same, since they'd worked so well before. I opened the door a crack, Codsworth crashed inside to draw attention and then I backed him up to finish the job. The next room held two more raiders, even dumber than the last two because we found them struggling with the trunk that held their ammo and weapons. We came in and they turned to face us armed with a pool cue and a wrench. I smirked as I put one barrel from the shotgun into each of them and let Codsworth finish them off. It was grisly work but at least he felt useful.

More movement upstairs so that's where we went. I'd fished a grenade and a Molotov from the raiders so far but I didn't want to use fire. Setting a building in the middle of Boston on fire was bad enough but with no one to put it out, it might spread. More resources wasted and that rubbed me the wrong way. I didn't want to use the grenade either if I didn't have to. I didn't have the stuff to make new ones yet and my collection was small. So we climbed the stairs slowly until we reached the top. Same deal as before…he led and I followed. We killed the last two in the building and then proceeded to strip the place of anything that wasn't nailed down. I was glad I'd brought Codsworth with me or else I'd never have gotten it all out in one load. I was close to staggering as it was and after I thought about it I decided to leave some of the pipe weapons behind. Too much weight for not enough value, in my mind at least.

We stopped back at Oberland to give them the good news and stash most of our haul. If we were going to check out the treatment plant, then we were going to want to travel light.

"You don't want to go there," one of the folks at Oberland said as Codsworth and I made our plans. "Super Mutants live there."

Well…shit. According to Preston, one of those things could be bad news. Now I might have a whole compound full of them, plus more inside. _Not_ fun. The folks at Oberland sketched out a rough map of the treatment plant while we talked and I decided to upgrade my apparatus a bit.

"Okay, Codsworth…I need you to run an errand for me," I said as I looked at the map.

"Proud to serve, Sir!" he replied.

"Take everything you can carry back to Sanctuary Hills and tell Preston what we've learned since we left. The PA suit at the train cars, the robots at Graygarden, and everything that's happened here. Let him know that I plan to try and clear the treatment plant but there are Mutants involved and I could use all the help I can get. When you come back, bring every land mine, grenade and explosive device you can scrounge from Sanctuary Hills."

"On my way, Sir!"

"Meet me a little way north of the treatment plant," I explained as I indicated a point on the map. "That way, you don't have to cross the river and go all the way around."

"What will you be doing while I'm gone, Sir?" he asked as he turned one eye stalk around to look at me.

"Scouting," I replied simply. "Now git. Sooner gone means sooner back. If you're not back by midnight tomorrow night, I'll assume something bad has happened and you're not coming."

"I won't let you down, Sir!" he proclaimed and headed off, nearly dragging from the supplies he was carrying. I was doomed, plan and simple. He'd get himself caught by some raider gang looking to scrap him for parts and I'd have to go in alone. Hope for the best and plan for the worst, my grandma had always said. With that as my only plan, I borrowed a bed from the Oberland people and grabbed some much-needed shuteye.

The next day I munched down some roasted animal of some kind (I'd learned not to ask as long as it smelled good) as I headed for the treatment plant. I wanted to scout the place by day and attack by night. I arrived and circled the place from a distance until I found a good observation point in the rocks overlooking the plant. The word 'fucked' was not strong enough to describe my position.

I counted six Mutants strolling around, doing whatever they were doing, as well as a couple of really big dogs. Well, not dogs really so much as gigantic dog-like t _hings_. More trouble. If the dog monsters could smell half as well as their normal-sized counterparts, I would have to be wary of shifting winds, food that I ate and taking a leak anywhere nearby. If they got a whiff of me, they could alert the rest and then it would become a lopsided game of 'Chase the Smith.'

I moved my position several times that day, double-checking the head count and watching what the Mutants did. They never seemed to sleep although the dogs seemed to sleep a _lot_ so that was in my favor. The entrance to the treatment plant was easy to spot and it didn't look like the Mutants had gone inside. Trash and mud piled in the doorway made it look like it hadn't been opened in a while. Okay…so the equipment was simply broken down or the filters clogged or something. How tough could it be, right? I found a secure spot and cat-napped until well after dark. It was nearly midnight when I heard Codsworth's thruster moving closer and I went to meet him.

"I am _so_ pleased to see you, Sir!" he said gleefully. He was toting several bags filled with homemade explosives, extra ammo for my rifle and a flare pistol with several flares.

"What's this for?" I asked as I held the pistol up.

"Mr. Garvey told me to tell you that when you were ready to attack the camp, you should fire that into the air." he explained. "If he managed to round up any help, they would strike then."

" _If_ he managed to find help?" I said incredulously. "You mean he's not _sure_?"

"Mr. Garvey didn't want to bring, as he said it, 'Settlers to a firefight', Sir. He said that he would only bring those that he thought would be of good use rather than sending people to their deaths needlessly."

"Well, I can't argue there," I muttered aloud.

"Wouldn't _any_ help be better than nothing at all, Sir?" he asked.

"Napoleon once said that an army of lions, led by a dog, would die like dogs in battle," I paraphrased something one of my officers had said over and over in training. "But an army of dogs, led by a lion, will fight like lions."

"So, you would rather have an army of dogs, led by a lion, Sir?"

"Actually, I'd rather have an army of lions and forget the dogs altogether but that's not the point," I remarked as I checked the camp to make sure they hadn't spotted us. "If Garvey had just come alone, it would have been better than wasting time trying to gather a questionable force and arrive too late."

"Perhaps we should wait a while and give Mr. Garvey more time, Sir?" he suggested. It was not a bad idea.

"True enough. I'm going to sleep for a couple of hours. If anything happens, wake me. If not, wake me at 0200 hours and we'll go then," I explained as I found a decent spot to sleep. Apparently nothing happened because at 0200, on the pin, Codsworth woke me with a shake.

"No sign of Garvey?" I asked hopefully.

"None, Sir," he replied. "Perhaps we should wait a little longer?"

"No…no point," I said firmly. "I have to make some preparations anyway. If he shows up, then all is well. If not…well…it's not the first time I've faced impossible odds."

I left Codsworth to keep watch for reinforcements while I took the explosives and began moving around the outer perimeter of the camp. I laid a total of six mines, two of them my own creation, along the areas where I thought the Mutants were most likely to move. It was after four in the morning when I was finally ready.

"If we don't go now, it'll be daylight soon," I explained to Codsworth. "I'm going to try and lure them into the mines I placed around the camp. If I get hit and go down, leave me and try to find Garvey."

"You want me to _leave you behind_ , Sir?" he sounded horrified. "I would _never_ do that!"

"Codsworth, we're not just taking care of the house or washing the car this time," I said firmly. "We're on a mission. Your owner was in the military…he went on mission during the war, right?"

"Well…yes, Sir but…"

"Missions are _important_ , Codsworth," I stressed to him. "The objective of the mission _must_ come first…before all else. You understand me? Our mission here is to clear this place and restore water to Graygarden. If we do that, they'll give us food. They may be able to send us clean water too. This is important for everyone back home…not just us. If I die out here, and you don't tell Preston, then he might blunder into a fight and get more people hurt or killed. Make sure you tell him where I planted the mines so his people don't set them off by accident. Are we clear?"

"Very clear, Sir," he said sadly. He was my backup plan and I needed him to be able to get to Garvey if it all went south. Considering what I was up against, I pretty much _knew_ it was going to go south but I had to try. I nodded to Codsworth and then moved into position. I checked my weapons, took one last look around to make sure nothing had changed, then fired a single flare skyward.

The amount of shit that hit the fan right then had to be seen to be believed. The Mutants were running around, pointing at the flare and shouting to each other. Having them clustered together like that made it easier to pick my target as I put the launcher to my shoulder and fired the rocket into the group of them. I was reloading before the echoes of the first blast had faded and the amount of yelling I was hearing told me that I _definitely_ had their attention now. They charged from the compound like an angry green tide, except for the one that had been closest to the rocket, and I had to steady myself to avoid duffing the next shot.

The hounds reached me first, racing ahead of the Mutants with surprising speed. One came at me from the front while the other circled to my left. The one in front vanished in a red mist as he stepped on the mine I'd placed twenty meters in front of me and another blast took the legs off of the other one. Problem was, the body kept moving from the momentum and all hundred-plus pounds of him hit me like a linebacker flattening a quarterback on Saturday night. I managed to push the thing off of me but wasted valuable seconds doing so. The remaining Mutants were way too close and I started retreating under a hail of gunfire.

Bullets _hurt_. Anyone who says otherwise is an idiot…or else they've never been shot. Two of the Mutants were spraying my position like madmen while two others closed in swinging pieces of wood over their heads. Great…I was going to be clubbed to death. Wonderful. One bullet hit my left shoulder and that was painful enough but a second one hit my right calf and that brought me down to a knee. Yep…impending doom. I was going to die right then and there. I heard a strange sound and noticed the last Mutant was carrying something under his arm like a football. It had a red light on it that was blinking and the sound it made reminded me of a timer.

HOLY FUCK! That guy is carrying a tactical nuclear weapon under his arm! HOLY SHIT! What kind of crazed, twisted creature would blow himself up in a nuclear fireball just to kill someone? The image of shaking hands with a nuclear explosion motivated me to run, like _really fast_ , farther up the hill. I dropped a grenade over my shoulder as I went and that took out one of the board-wielding guys but the rest kept coming. I found a rock outcropping to hide behind while I unlimbered my rifle when I saw a laser blast hit one of the Mutant shooters in the back. He turned around to see who was shooting him and suddenly the air was filled with bullets and most of them were hitting him. He did one of those crazy dances they show in the movies sometimes when someone gets shot a bunch of times and then toppled over like a felled tree.

The hail of gunfire made the Mutants in front of me pause and turn to see what the commotion was. I took this as an obvious sign from God that I was supposed to start shooting but I knew I would only get a few shots off before they chased me down. Not knowing what else to do, I fired at the nuke and prayed. The explosion threw me back a good ten feet and made my Pipboy scream angrily. It also disintegrated the Mutant carrying the bomb as well as his board-wielding buddy. The last shooter was apparently busy spraying the tree line where the laser shot had come from. I took a few shots at him and likely hit him once or twice but the other shooters, whoever they were, did most of the heavy lifting. The last Mutant went down and suddenly the only noise was the ticking of my Pipboy's Geiger and some cheering from off in the distance. I was waiting for the Stimpak to get to work when Preston and Codsworth arrived a few minutes later.

"I'm glad you could make it," I said through deep, labored breaths. The bullet had gone through my leg and chipped the bone and the healing process hurt like Hell.

"So am I," Garvey replied with that stupid grin of his. "Sorry we took so long to get here but hiking in the dark sucks in the best of conditions." He indicated the clouded-over sky and I understood. With no moon to see by and not wanting to turn on lights and give away their position, Garvey and his people had had to slog through the underbrush in almost total darkness.

"I set off a nuke just now," I said absently as I added a dose of Rad-Away to the Stim mix. Oh yeah…I was going to feel like total shit for a while. "Does that sort of thing happen often?"

"Mutant Suiciders? Not really," he replied. "Just your lucky day, I suppose."

"Mr. Garvey, was anyone hurt?" Codsworth asked. "Other than Mr. Smith, I mean?"

"Two of the men took bullets from that last guy spraying all to Hell and gone but they'll live." he replied. "The other two are looking after them now."

"Other two?" I perked up. "You showed up with just _four_ people?"

"All I could get on such short notice," he shrugged. "It was good luck we got that many. We had one each from Ten Pines and the Abernathy farm, one who had just arrived from Oberland and one of our own people. They were the only ones I trusted to be at our backs with guns."

"I can see that," I said as I laid my head against the rock I was propped up against and drifted off to sleep. When I woke up the sun was high in the sky, my leg and shoulder were bandaged and both felt a _lot_ better. Codsworth was hovering nearby fussing over something cooking on the fire.

"What the Hell happened?" I asked nobody in particular.

"I am _so_ glad to see that you're awake, Sir! Codsworth said with more cheer in his voice than I felt. "I'll have breakfast ready in a jiffy. It's a bit rough but we can't be choosy when camping in the wild, eh?"

"How long have I been out?" I asked as I flexed all of my important parts and found them attached and working.

"It's just past noon, Sir, so approximately eight hours or so," he replied with one eye stalk pointed at me and two on the frying pan.

"What happened to Garvey and the rest of his people?"

"Oh, they cleared out the treatment plant and then returned to Graygarden with the good news, Sir! They left about two hours ago, give or take."

" _They_ cleared out the plant?" I was shocked. I was expecting to have to go in myself but I guess my tiff with Garvey had hit home and he felt bad asking me to do everything myself. "Did they get the equipment running again?"

"Yes, Sir…apparently one of the gentlemen from Ten Pines is very good with his hands. There was some trouble with the Mirelurks apparently and one of the men was wounded but I was told that he will recover in due time."

"What the Hell is a Mirelurk?" I just _had_ to hear this one.

"Mirelurk is a somewhat generic term used to describe any of a number of mutated crustaceans, Sir," he explained as he plated breakfast. Having three arms sure could be useful. "Most of them nest in the mud where they lay eggs. They resemble large crabs, for the most part, although like most things in the Commonwealth the glowing variety are the most heavily mutated and radioactive."

"I saw one of those in the sewers underneath Concord," I remarked on the thing that I had killed down in the tunnels. "I forgot to ask Preston what it was."

"Yes, Sir. Apparently, several of the nasty things had nested inside various parts of the treatment plant, clogging the machinery and generally fouling up the place," he explained while I ate. "Mr. Garvey said that once they'd cleared them out and restarted the pumps to purge them of mud, everything ran more or less smoothly."

"You said one man was hurt but that he'll be all right?"

"So I was told, Sir. The man in question was cradling his arm when they returned from the plant but he was walking under his own power. Mr. Garvey wanted to get a head start since you were in no condition to travel. His plan was to relay the good news to Graygarden and negotiate trade deals with them before returning to Sanctuary Hills. He told me to keep watch over you and aid you when you felt ready to go."

"Well, after a good sleep, some great meds and an outstanding breakfast, I feel ready to travel right now," I said as I cleaned my plate and handed it to him. "By the way, how much do you know about computer terminals?"

"I know a fair bit, Sir, although I'm no savant," he replied as he cleaned the plate and packed it. Yep…very useful to take camping. "I can teach you a few of the basics though if you would like."

"Yeah…that would be great," I said with a smile. "I need to make a detour on the way back home. Something I need to pick up…"


	8. Chapter 8

Life is about pace. Sometimes, the pace is insanely fast and you don't really have a lot of time to look around and see what's going on. Sometimes the pace is slower and you have time to appreciate and admire the special little things that feel like they make life worth living. Sort of like counting your blessings and all that. I'd done plenty of the former since thawing out and now, for a few days, I was enjoying the latter.

After returning with (yet another) suit of Power Armor, Preston and I had a couple of drinks, told war stories and then I came clean about my past. Well, the whole Vault part anyway. I skipped the part about how I'd killed a man to save myself and all that. The folks here were just beginning to see me as a nice guy. No need to destroy the illusion.

We began to make a few plans about what was going to happen next. We'd both been through some shit, especially recently, and now was the time to slow down and take stock of the situation. Sanctuary Hills was growing. Word had gotten out about the fact that we had food, water and security and people wanted in. We had over a dozen with more showing up almost every day. Soon, population would be a problem. In a bombed-out subdivision…soon we would have _too many_ people. Go figure.

"What do you think?" he asked over a bottle of beer. I'd found some that wasn't rancid, no way to know how it had kept for all this time, and we treated everyone to one bottle. "We can stack folks six to a house but they won't be happy. A dry roof and food are great but after a while people need privacy once in a while."

"We change our last idea about training people from other settlements," I suggested. "We bring people in but we let them know that, at some point, we might be asking them to go to another settlement to spread what they know. We won't break up families or separate spouses or anything like that but anyone can see that the river limits our space here."

"How about a barracks?" Preston suggested after we mulled it over for a few minutes. "You guys had that back in the day, right? A place just for the new recruits to train them and let them get settled in?"

"Yeah, we had a quarantine barracks for the new recruits to make sure they weren't bringing in anything contagious," I replied, thinking back to how my service had begun. "Then basic training for three months, lots of marching, running, shouting and learning to fire a weapon. Then we were sent to the field, most of us anyway. The smart ones went back to school to learn the more advanced shit like tech repair and maintenance or Officer's school."

"So…why not have a version of that here?" he leaned forward, a gleam in his eye. "We build a barracks, sort of a dormitory split between men and women. We screen them for illness and injury, fix up the ones that need it, feed them and let them rest up. No sense asking them to work if they're stumbling in wounded and starving."

"After they're healthy, we find out what they're good at," I continued, my thought processes tied to his. "Put everyone through three days or so of weapons training, just for safety if nothing else, and the ones that are good get guard duty. If they can swing a hammer, they go to Sturgis and his repair team. Cooks go to Mama Murphy and the kitchen. Anyone without a clear talent can go in the general work pool."

"Yes!" he was excited that we were on the same page for once. "Once we get them trained up a bit, we make sure that some of the security and building people are sent to other settlements to train _their_ people. Keeps us from having to hike all over doing it ourselves. We can check up on them as needed but we won't have to waste time on the knucklehead stuff."

"Why Preston, I thought you liked hob-knobbing with the people?" I asked archly. "Now it sounds like you want to delegate _all_ of them away. What gives?"

"I joined the Minutemen when I was like 16," he replied, a bit deflated by my remark. I felt bad but he was a dreamer and dreamers need to stay tied to reality once in a while. "It was great, at first, because I felt like we were really doing some good. Helping people. Then came the Quincy Massacre I told you about. A lot of good people died and it all started to fall apart. I still believe in the idea of the Minutemen but our biggest flaw was that we relied on our leaders _too_ much. When General Hollis died, we fell to in-fighting and there was no way back. I think if we rebuilt the Minutemen with a stronger leadership, from top to bottom, it would be better. Knowing that there is always someone you can rely on to take up the slack in a bad situation is comforting to people."

"Everyone feels more like a winner when the men around him know their shit," I agreed. "So…we work on this barracks idea. Maybe a more formalized training routine. Get everyone off on the right foot. Then what?"

"I think the Minutemen need a new face," Preston said, leaning a little closer and lowering his voice. There were still others around, laughing and enjoying themselves, and he obviously wanted to keep things on the down-low for now.

"Why don't we go check the perimeter?" I said as I noted his attitude. He nodded and soon we were pretending to inspect defenses while we talked.

"What did you mean…a new face?" I asked.

"People still remember Quincy," he said sadly. "They're still not confident that the Minutemen are even still around, let alone able to help anyone."

"The folks at Ten Pines and Abernathy's place seemed surprised when I said that I was with the Minutemen," I agreed. "You think we need a PR person?"

"I think we need a leader," he said firmly. "Someone who is willing, and able, to lead by example. Get things done. Prove that the Minutemen are _still_ a good idea that we can make work."

"Great idea…when do you start?"

"Not me, Smith…you," he said as he stopped and turned to face me. "I want _you_ to be the face of the new Minutemen."

"You can't hold your beer," I said with a smirk until I saw that he was serious. " _Me_? What in the living Hell makes you think I can lead these people? I'm not even from _around_ here! What makes you think they'll follow _me_?"

"Because they already have," he said simply. "Last week when you attacked the treatment plant? I told the people here what was going on and asked for volunteers. Almost every hand went up, including Mama Murphy's. I only took the ones that had combat experience but _everyone_ wanted to help you. You…a stranger none of them had met even a week before. They were ready to go into a firefight, with Super Mutants no less, for _you_."

"I'm not a leader, Garvey…I'm a field man," I said firmly. "If you knew how many times I've thought about cutting loose and running from here since I woke up, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"If you actually _had_ run, you wouldn't _be_ here to have this conversation," he replied flatly. "You've proven yourself more capable than ten other people. You've gone into battle against the steepest odds anyone here has ever heard of. Of _course_ you've thought about bailing out. Everyone thinks that way. Hell, _I've_ thought that way. But we stayed. _You_ stayed."

"I stayed because I had something to gain," I said sharply. "When we first met, my first thought was to kill you all or, at best, leave you to the raiders. Then it occurred to me that having people around to guard my shit while I was gone was a good thing. Then you started asking me to help those other settlements and I only did it for the food…for a full belly…and someone to keep me warm once in a while. I can't tell you for sure that I won't head over the hill the first time a better opportunity comes along. Is _that_ the kind of person you want leading you?"

"Leading me? No…but what about leading _them_?" he said as he took in the community with a sweep of his arm. "I understand you better than you think. You went to sleep in the real world and woke up in a nightmare. You're just trying to survive. You're an opportunist and you seem to think I'm going to think less of you for that. Have you hurt anyone here? Have you stolen from us? Handed us to the raiders for caps or left anyone behind to save your own skin? No…you haven't, even though you've had plenty of chances. Okay…so you don't want to be leader. Are you willing to at least act like one in front of others?"

"You want me to play puppet? That doesn't sound like your style either, Garvey."

"My _style_ is anything I need to do to keep people alive," he said. "You're not the only one that uses people. I've done it since we met. 'Hey, Smith…can you help out this settlement while I guard the home front? How about that settlement over there? Oh, and that one too?' I asked you to hike your ass all over the Commonwealth helping others while I stayed back because I wasn't sure I could trust you with these people. When you took on the Mutants at the treatment plant though, that was _way_ above and beyond the call of duty. You're a better fighter than anyone I know. A better fighter than me. You've got skills I can't hope to learn any time soon. So, I used you as a strike force. I watched you in Concord…you're a wrecking crew. A God-damned weapon of mass destruction. You killed the enemy and saved lives doing it. You took risks for people without owing them anything and now they look up to you more than they ever will me. The question is, will you let me use that?"

"So, I play the part of leader but you call the shots?" I asked incredulously.

"More or less," he replied. "You make the military decisions, tactical calls and lead in the field. I help with coordination of the settlements and guard the people here. If you need me in the field then fine, I'm with you, but otherwise you're the tip of the spear."

"Each to their own skill set eh?"

"Sounds about right," he replied. "I need a symbol that the people can rally around and you're it. You might not feel like a hero, you might not even _be_ a hero, but you sure as Hell _look_ like a hero to these people. I'll never have the respect that you've earned. People will follow me but not look up to me. I'll always be just the guy who survived Quincy. But you…you're the star of the show. If that means I can use you as a walking, talking recruiting poster for the Minutemen than that's what I'll do. You used us to keep you alive, now let me do the same thing to you."

"Join the Minutemen…see the Commonwealth," I said flatly, then sighed. "Well…shit. Fair's fair, Garvey." I said and shook his hand. "I'll be your poster boy, _and_ your spear, as long as you keep me happy. Hell…find me a nice set of twins and I'll be President if you want me to."

"What about the redhead?'

"She's a good kid but it's time she moved on and found some nice guy to settle down with," I replied. She'd started talking about 'our future together' and that was _not_ a conversation I wanted to have with anyone just yet. "Oh…if I'm going to become your chief recruiter, I'm going to want some better quarters, maybe some booze too. A man has to have his creature comforts."

"Fair enough…General," he said with a smile.

"General? Quite a promotion you just gave me there, Garvey."

"The leader of the Minutemen has always held the rank of General. One of the few advantages of being the last one is that there's nobody around to dispute the claim. It's tradition and I think that some traditions are good things. Besides, we can't just go around calling our chief hero 'Smith' now can we?"

"Booze," I said firmly as I turned to walk away before I said something I'd regret or agreed to some _other_ crazy scheme. ' _And_ better quarters… _and_ women… _and_ smokes! Don't forget the smokes!"

"No problem…General!" he shot at my back as I stalked away. "By the way…I heard tell of a settlement that need your help!"

" _Lots_ of booze!" I shouted back over my shoulder. "And _pretty_ women!"

The price you pay for being the local hero…I swear.


End file.
